


Don't Touch Him

by kijitsune



Category: APH - Fandom, Axis Powers Hetalia, Hetalia - Fandom
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-06 08:06:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10330022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kijitsune/pseuds/kijitsune
Summary: Set just before the collapse of the Soviet Union, tensions are rising in Russia's house. Amidst the seedlings of a plot for independence, Hungary is called to help out, but ends up winding herself into a plan threatening those closest to her.[Short]





	1. Arrival and Skeptism

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfiction does use 'Nationverse' but all characters are referred to by their human names, not their nation names. 
> 
> This fanfiction is pretty much 50/50 concerning focus on plotline and romantic relationships. Said relationships never develop beyond fluffy/kiss description though, sorry D: 
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer. I have completed thorough research on the subject of the Soviet Union, however this fanfiction is in no way shape or form going to be 100% historically accurate. Even Hetalia is not historically accurate. I will try to incorporate 'real life events' or such into this, tactfully of course, but at the end of the day, this fanfiction focuses on relationships - both platonic and romantic, and the eventual independence of all nations in the Soviet Union. I hope you enjoy!

(A/N: This fanfiction uses human AU names over nation names. If you're new to this concept, then here is a little guide below!

Ivan — Russia  
Alfred — America  
Eduard — Estonia  
Raivis — Latvia  
Toris — Lithuania  
Feliks — Poland  
Natalya —Belarus  
Elizabeta — Hungary  
Yekaterina "Katyusha" — Ukraine  
Vladimir — Romania  
Aurel — Moldova  
Roderich — Austria  
Basch — Switzerland  
Gilbert — Prussia  
Lilli - Liechtenstein  
Ludwig - Germany  
Feliciano - North Italy  
// if applicable, more will be added at a later date.

Hope this helps!)

 

P r o l o g u e [hence the shortness, apologies!]  
December 12th, 1989.

Secluded by a glade of firs, a large white mansion dwelled serenely, all by itself, looking as if it had long given up on communication with the outside world. There was a car, just a little red number to nip around in, stood outside the garage, and the only thing betraying that it wasn't brand new was that the tax was two years out of date. On top of it lay a thick sheen of fresh white snow. In fact, the whole site was covered with snow. This was Russia, after all.

The stairs and front porch were entirely coated with snow too, and whoever dared to scale the stairs and cross the porch would soon sink in to the thick mush. Once they were rooted in the stuff, there was little hope of emancipation. 

It was on this morning, that a young female had arrived at the house. It had been a long while since the house had had guests. The last guests had been invited to stay in 1922 and hadn't left yet, and the only other people who came to the house weren't called guests at all, but rather 'visitors' and they wore suits and had ID cards permitting their entry. You weren't allowed to deny their entry, either.

The female had left the airport dressed simply in a fitted skirt and silk blouse, but had had to hastily rectify that. Now she was bundled up in a coat, snowboots, a hat pulled down to her nose and a scarf that covered her mouth. Even through all that, she was bitterly cold.

She knocked apprehensively on the door — not that she had any reason to be nervous. Kat had secured her permission to enter - she wasn't going to be shot down by the Soviet military upon arrival. It was just.. effectively she was entering the most dangerous house in the Soviet Union. 

The door was opened hesitantly, and thin, cat-like eyes stared out from the crack. Suddenly, it was flung open entirely, and the door opener and the guest hugged for a long time. "Elizabeta! You're here!" The door-opener cried out, before pulling apart. She had long silvery blonde hair which hung loosely around her shoulders, and was combed into a fringe at the front. She dressed plainly in a black t-shirt and black jeans, but this didn't detract from her eyes. Slitted and feline though they were, it was the colour that really radiated. A sharp lavender. 

Elizabeta nodded, her face contorting into a weak smile. "It's been too long, Natalya." She murmured, as Natalya helped remove her bulky coat and shoes. The house was actually furnished rather nicely, it had a sort of rococo feel with the elegant stairs and polished banisters that stood centrally in the entrance hall. There was a diamond chandelier that hung to the side of the staircase, and Elizabeta's eyes widened. Off the side of the entrance hall was an arch, through which Natalya lead her. She raised her voice. "Kat, Elizabeta's here!" She called out, before stopping dead in her tracks. They had entered a small drawing room, studded with two white suede sofas and a gilt-glass coffee table between them. Except, sat on them reading complacently was not Kat, like Natalya had expected. But two frowning individuals wearing suits. Natalya gasped, and the pair bolted from the room. "I think we walked in on some officials having a meeting!" She whispered to Elizabeta. Opposite from the drawing room, was another door. Thorough this, Natalya lead Elizabeta into the reception room, where this time, Kat really was sat reading, one leg crossed over the other.

Kat was tall and well built, and had short daffodil coloured hair that was cut round her ears and secured with a brass pin. "Well, look who's here," Kat suddenly smiled, and stood up to embrace Elizabeta. "Thank you for coming." She whispered into Elizabeta's tumbling sepia toned locks. Elizabeta shook her head. "You said you needed help. I couldn't refuse." She murmured back, mimicking Kat's hushed demeanour. Natalya stood aside, fiddling with a bouquet of roses that was perched in a vase on the side table. The room suddenly fell quiet. "Who else is home?" Elizabeta asked, flashing her gaze round the room.

Kat furrowed her brow intently. "Eduard, Raivis and Toris are, Ivan is away in Moscow on business, Feliks is probably out taking a walk. Though Toris spends more time in Feliks' room than his own. Well, it's not his own, because he shares with Rai and Eduard. Poor thing." Elizabeta nodded, before cocking her head. "Who are the men in the drawing room?" She asked, looking down at her feet. Kat shook her head. "Don't worry about them."

Elizabeta was about to argue that she was indeed worrying about them, but she liked Kat too much for confrontation. Kat was just one of the nice people of the world. 

Natalya huffed, a little annoyed that Kat had started talking to Elizabeta, excluding her. "I'm going upstairs. If you need me, then you may as well know now that I won't come. Unless you've made lunch." Kat rolled her eyes at her younger sister. "Petty." She remarked, before turning back to Elizabeta. "Can I get you a drink? You must be thirsty."

Elizabeta nodded, thankful. She liked seeing he interaction between Yekaterina and Natalya, it really had been too long since she'd visited. It wasn't as if she'd been out of contact, they'd seen each other at meetings and talked via the phone, but it was hardly the same as meeting at such a domestic setting. She was lead back out through the arch, and across the entrance hall with the fancy chandelier to another arch that led to an open plan kitchen-diner. "Your house is still so lovely. I was worried it would have become-" "Like something from a dystopian novel?" Kat finished the sentence. "No, it hasn't. I mean, Nat's bedroom is kind of apocalyptic. But that's only because she can never be bothered to tidy it." Elizabeta laughed, and studied Kat for a while. There must be so much she's hiding, she mused to herself, before watching Kat set about making tea. It didn't take a genius to gauge that all was not well with Kat. Nothing had been anything near alright with the Braginsky clan for the last century. 

Kat passed over the steaming mug of tea, and smiled a demure little grin. "I hope it's not too hot. Though with this climate, it'll be stone cold in a moment." She joked, before training her gaze on the corridor. "I think Feliks is back." She observed. "You're friends with Feliks, right?" Elizabeta nodded. "I think everyone who meets him is. He's too nice to hate." She paused. "May I ask something?" Kat blinked, and then nodded. "Sure you can." 

Elizabeta drummed her fingers on the marble countertop of the breakfast bar. "Why does Feliks still live here? He's independent now. I'm independent, and I live back home now. So why doesn't he live back in Poland?" Kat chuckled, and leant over to whisper in Elizabeta's ear. "Because here is where Toris is. Feliks wouldn't separate himself from Toris for all the world." Elizabeta laughed slightly. "Are they dating then?" Kat shrugged. "Who knows? Who cares? They live in their own little bubble. I only wonder why Ivan hasn't kicked him out yet. Probably doesn't care." 

Elizabeta nodded, and Feliks stuck his head through the arch, his sun-kissed golden hair falling over his face with the motion. "Liza! You're here?!" He said, his eyes questioning. "Here as here can be." She replied, before giggling. "I'm glad. S' been a while, y'know?" He continued, before Toris whisked him away. "Leave them alone, Feliks."

"Nothing's changed. Nothing at all." Elizabeta murmured starkly. "It's weird, but I'm pleased. I didn't want anything to have changed." Kat sighed. "Nothing's changed on the outside. But things are changing, Liza." She exhaled softly,"I think things are maybe changing for the better." Elizabeta raised an eyebrow quizzically. Things were changing? She wasn't entirely sure what Kat was insinuating. Kat shook her head. "Maybe I'm wrong. But Natalya senses it too. We'll have to work hard, but we'll get it."

Suddenly Elizabeta's jaw dropped open. "Are you planning independence?" She queried in disbelief. So long had Kat and Natalya been with Ivan, even longer than the Soviet Union had existed. Kat, as the eldest of the three, had practically raised Ivan. But that didn't mean the siblings' relations as of late had been that great.

"Shhh! They might hear!" Kat clamped her hands round Elizabeta's mouth, indirecting the two officials sat just across the hall. Elizabeta shook her head. "They won't. Unless they've bugged the house." She added quietly. Kat sighed. "I wouldn't put it past them, you know." 

"What was it, exactly, you needed me here for?" Elizabeta asked. "You seem just fine. And you're plotting independence, which can only be a good thing." Kat looked Elizabeta in the eye for a moment, and then shook her head. "Maybe I shouldn't have asked you here. I don't want you getting mixed up in everything. It's just.. I trust you and you have independence and everything. I want to go back to Ukraine, Liza. I just don't know how."


	2. Grounded and Fidgeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I find it extremely hard to write for long periods of time, so chapter lengths should average at 1,000 words long (at least) but I'd like to get them up to sizes of 3, 4, 5,000 etc. I hope this doesn't bug you all too much - I know some people do like their long, lengthy fanfictions!

Raivis hadn't always been a fidget.

But he was one now. He did it when he was nervous, when he wasn't, when he was excited, when he felt angry or dismal, and when he was lethargic or energetic. He simply just had to be fiddling with something or touching something or squeezing something. It was just a part of his life.

Raivis had also developed extremely nervous tendencies, these were erratic and completely engulfed his mind. He'd get in such a state he'd become unresponsive and a tic would form in his eye and it was better to simply leave him alone for a while. This, again, hadn't always been a problem.

It had only started when he had come to live with Ivan. Yes, that was when things had flared up and gone wrong and headed downwards in an onslaught of melancholy drama. For everyone, not just Raivis.

For Toris, he'd isolated himself in his mind. There was never a moment when he was off of his feet. Coming to Ivan's house had been a novelty at first, it meant he was leaving behind his days of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, where although he had vaguely prospered, simply living life was like one long Pyrrhic victory. To put it simply, he had suffered as Feliks' assistant. Although the commonwealth was meant to bring the two countries together, in the end it seemed more as if Poland had occupied Lithuania. Though looking back on it now, those were the end of Toris' glory days, from when he was younger and defeated legendary Prussia on numerous occasions. But now, Toris had to fight to assimilate just why he continued residing at Ivan's. 

For Eduard, he lived life with an advantage. Ivan uncritically trusted his strong mind, never once believing it would recede into laxness. Eduard attended most Soviet meetings because of this, as it was rumoured that if probed, he would provide an unmistakably intelligent suggestion. But none of this meant Eduard was altogether happy. 

No, for the three Baltics, life was simply a humble display of mediocrity. Raivis had given up on independence almost for good, preferring to simply remember the past with an affinity, but not yearn for the future with any similar disposition. Eduard was not holding his breath, so to speak, on the topic, but he was counting on plotting something good. One day. One day he'd wake up with a eureka moment. He had faith in that, at least.

Toris however, was a fighter. Especially with Feliks forever at his side, Toris would one day prove himself worthy of his long sought-after sovereignty. He hadn't backed down once in the last fifty years. He didn't hate Ivan, but he hated his regime. It was unfair to hate Ivan when the fault was to be found with his advisors. 

The three Baltics had known each other, it seemed, for their entire lives. They'd traded back in the olden days, they'd grown up together, they'd fought alongside each other and fallen short of world domination together. And now they slept together in the smallest bedroom of the mansion. Raivis had been secretly pleased about this, it curbed his night terrors, Eduard hadn't liked the prospect too much in recent years with the invention of the game boy, which Toris complained kept him awake when Eduard stayed up playing with it until the small hours. But then Toris started sneaking off into Feliks' room every night, so it was just Eduard and Raivis. The remaining two hadn't minded that, suffice to say.

It was late on the night Elizabeta had arrived, and she was to be sleeping in Kat's room. But she simply couldn't sleep - she'd forgotten how much this house provoked insomnia. She'd forgotten this house, period. She'd forgotten how it got so cold at night, how it chilled right through to your bones, she'd forgotten how lonely it felt even when lying side by side with one of your best friends. She'd forgotten how happy she had felt to leave it.

She had slept fitfully for most of the night, but fully gave in to consciousness around two am. Her skin was speckled with goosebumps, it was so piercingly cold. Kat slept like a log, her eyes screwed shut, the blankets pulled right up to her neck. She hoped Kat wouldn't notice her absence.

Padding along the hallway with stealth skills she had learned to cultivate over her past, she paused outside Raivis and Eduard's room, which was situated at the end of the hallway, tucked away into a small insignificance. The unmistakable sound of crying hummed from the interior of the room, and Elizabeta leant her forehead on the door with a sigh. Eduard could be heard attempting to comfort Raivis, and from the sound of it, this was a common occurrence. Though Elizabeta knew that already. She'd spent her fair share of time in Ivan's mansion.

She turned round, unsure as to whether she'd make her way back to Kat's room, or somewhere else. Maybe downstairs. She could read for a while, to settle her head. As she turned to the stairwell, Elizabeta heard the telltale sound of human disturbance. Her eyes widening, she focused on a silhouette, dappled by the darkness of the corridor. She slammed her hand against the wall, groping around for the light switch. Feeling it under her fingertips, she flicked it on, the world seeming to spin a little less as the corridor began to illuminate. At the opposite end of the corridor stood a man in official military gear, his finger rested on the trigger of a revolver. "Hands up. Name, age, ethnicity and purpose." He hissed.

She blinked, before the cogs of her mind began to whir. "Elizabeta Hedévary, 20. Hungarian. I.. I'm staying here for a few weeks. I was going downstairs to get some water." The military official grunted. "You hydrate yourself adequately before you go to bed next time, ma'am." He paused. "My wife back in St. Petersburg is Hungarian. You know, I miss her more than anything." Elizabeta nodded respectfully. "One day you will get to see her again, I'm sure." He snorted. "Likely story. The Soviet Union is only getting more powerful. I will not be dismissed for a long time, ma'am." Elizabeta sighed. "But you like your job, no?" 

And he answered 'Yes.' Because there really wasn't another option. You learned to shut up when you had to at Ivan's house - that was what it taught you most. 

***

Breakfast hasn't started as too much of a melancholy affair.

Toris and Kat were cooking, whilst Feliks was telling Toris all the things he was doing wrong. Eduard was half asleep but still managing to complete each level of his game, Raivis was braiding Natalya's hair, and Elizabeta was writing in her journal. Elizabeta had reminded herself of simply how much she liked the group of nations, whilst secretly reprimanding herself for not having spent much time with them as of late. Ever since Gilbert's death, she'd spent most of her time with Roderich, Basch, and Lilli, and occasionally with Ludwig and Feliciano. Ludwig had needed a lot of support over Gilbert too, so the pair had bonded over that.

"What're we cooking? Is there coffee? God, I hope there's coffee." Eduard slurred, whilst stabbing at the pad of his GameBoy. Raivis chuckled. "Don't give him coffee. It doesn't bode well with his system." "I wouldn't give him coffee even if we had any." Kat said, a small smile flickering on her face, as she made accidental eye contact with Elizabeta. They don't even have coffee, Elizabeta thought to herself. If this wasn't indicative of how much of a southern decline things were taking for them all, then what was?

"Is orange juice okay for you all?" Toris asked tentatively, whilst giving the bacon pan a shake. Feliks raised an eyebrow. "I'd prefer apple juice, if I'm honest, my love." He whispered, sliding his arms round Toris's waist. Toris shook him off, and stared deadpan at the sizzling bacon. "We don't have any, Feliks. However, you did have the chance to pick some up when you went into town yesterday, correct?" Feliks stiffened. "You did go into town yesterday, didn't you?" Toris followed up, apprehensive. Feliks had told the officials at the mansion he'd visit town, and if you didn't go where you said you'd go, generally there was a penalty. "Sure I did." Feliks sprung back, smiling weakly. "I'm sorry, Toris. I didn't know we'd run out." Kat turned her back so she could express her dubiousness at Feliks' alibi in peace. Raivis had paused braiding Natalya's hair. Even Elizabeta trained her eyes on Feliks. "You know, none of us will tell on you if you actually didn't go to town, and went someplace else instead." Natalya murmured. 

Feliks sighs. "Why are you all making such a big deal out of this? I went into town, alright? It's not my duty to buy all the groceries just because I visited town. You all are paranoid." Kat padded over from investigating the fridge to the side of the counter where Toris was cooking. "In case you'd forgotten, we don't all revel in liberation like you do." She commented quietly. Natalya rolled her eyes. "Kat, until he leaves this place, he's one of us. He's not truly free until he lives within his own confines." Kat shrugged. "In official terms, he's independent. And we're not. Or had you got so used to this setup of life that you'd forgotten that?" She hissed.

Feliks put his hands up, mock surrendering. "Whoa, I'm sorry I didn't pick up apple juice yesterday. But please stop fighting!" Natalya narrowed her eyes. "Well, tell her to stop picking at everything I say." She said, folding her arms brusquely. "I think I'll skip breakfast today." She then announced curtly, before sauntering out of the kitchen-diner. Kat looked deflated. "She's so touchy these days. We barely argued." She murmured. Toris looked anxious, and had stopped stirring the pan of bacon. "How long has it been like this?" Elizabeta mouthed to Kat, but Kat only shook her head in reply. 

"Her loss. That smells great." Eduard commented, the sharp aroma of bacon seeking to shake off his delirium residue. Toris nodded awkwardly in reply. "I think it's about done. Kat, are the sausages ready?" Kat complied with an answer, and Elizabeta helped Raivis get some plates and glasses down from the cupboards. Raivis chuckled at this - "You'd be surprised at how much they t-tease me for my height, and then how quickly they forget how short I am when they ask me to d-do my fair share of chores." Feliks rolled his eyes. "Puberty'll hit you one day, someday." Raivis shuddered, and started laying out the knives and forks at the breakfast bar. The kitchen-diner was a small and plain room compared to the rest of the house, along one wall were the cupboards, the hob and oven, and the fridge. About a metre and a half opposite that, was the breakfast bar, which was two sided so whoever was cooking could use the counter space on one side (which also happened to be where the sink was) and on the other side of the counter you could sit on the stools and eat. Then there was a big oak table with some leather backed seats, with a large spray of flowers in the middle. Kat always made sure there were flowers aplenty in the mansion.

"Tastes good, Toris!" Raivis said, slicing into his bacon. Toris looked as if he was about to reply, but Feliks slid in. "Of course it does. Why, Toris himself tastes goo-" Toris had gone on to clamp a hand over Feliks' mouth. Elizabeta sniggered and Eduard covered his mouth with a napkin to avoid having to react to the situation. Kat looked highly uncomfortable as she fiddled with her fork in the baked beans. Feliks meanwhile, had the expression of a smug cat. Raivis was privately confused, but nodded shakily. "I-I'm sure he does!" He said innocently, completely unaware as to what he was insinuating. Elizabeta then snorted out all the orange juice in her mouth. "Feliks, you scumbag." Kat remarked, slapping him with a slice of toast. 

"I've missed you lot." Elizabeta grinned, and really meaning it. Life at home wasn't much. She had a nice, cosy Budapest apartment, but she spent most her time in Roderich's pretty Vienna townhouse. Not really doing much, just enjoying what the city had to offer, completing work for her government, accommodating Roderich's frequent guests of Basch, Lilli and Ludwig. Their family was close-knit, she had noticed over the centuries, but also incredibly distant. It was hard to explain.

Elizabeta didn't have much she could call family, in retrospect. She'd actually been married to Roderich once, a long time ago really, when she was, I suppose, a teenager. Things had been different then, it had been more conventional, so to speak. But that marriage was long dissolved. However, although by law they weren't family anymore, Roderich's relatives still felt very close to her, and she kept relationships with them consistent. She had always been good friends with Feliciano, and was getting through slowly but surely to Lovino. He couldn't say no to a girl, for all that was suggested between him and Antonio. 

As breakfast subsided, she helped Toris and Kat clear up the plates as the table disbanded. "That was delicious, Toris," she complimented, and he blushed. "S' only a bit of bacon, eggs, toast, sausages and beans. Nothing much." He stammered modestly, and Kat flicked him with a tea towel. "Have a bit of pride in yourself." She chirped, before running the hot water to wash up. "I think Feliks has all the pride for the two of us." He commented quietly, beginning to squirt washing up liquid into the sink. "The hot water's playing up again. Bloody northern hemisphere." Kat sighed, and wrung put her hands on her jeans. "I might have to wash this all up in the bathtub. Again."


	3. Don'ts and Hopes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kat fears rejection of her blossoming love, Toris and Feliks conspire, Natalya worries for her sister and Elizabeta finally comprehends the situation at hand. From here on, things are gonna gradually get s p i c y, drama wise. Hopefully..

The bittersweet realm of the lazy past few days faded as fast as Elizabeta arrived. They seldom left the house, except for Feliks, who flaunted his independence to the house guards, and went outside everyday. Kat used to spend a lot of her day reading, simply because there wasn't much better to do. But with Elizabeta here, Kat simply felt like spending every waking moment at her side. Elizabeta was conflicted, after the tatters her last relationship - with Roderich - had been left in .. she'd never considered another one. And Natalya was bent completely out of shape at the development between the two of them.

The snow was ebbing away, for all it was a Russian winter. It was sunset, and Kat and Elizabeta lay on top of the roof together, their hands entwined. And it had been perfect until Elizabeta voiced her thoughts. "Why exactly did you want me here?" She murmured, shielding her eyes from the blinding amber light. 

Kat dithered on a reply, and loosened her grip on Elizabeta's hand. "It's getting close to Christmas! That's why. I wanted to experience the festive season with you." She decided, but her voice was shaky and unsure. Elizabeta opened her mouth as if to rebuke, then closed it, then opened it again.

"That's a cute idea." She whispered, though privately she'd planned on leaving before Christmas. The chilling zephyrs mussed up her chestnut locks as a twist of wind drifted overhead.

Kat exhaled a little, and tried to read Elizabeta through her peripheral vision. But if Elizabeta had anything to give away beyond her words, it certainly wasn't easy to see. "Christmas isn't that bad here, Liza." She whispered, her voice punctuated with a pang for the bountiful Christmases she, Natalya and Ivan had experienced when Ivan's success was a fledgling, before the Soviet Union even existed. "Ivan makes sure of it. He makes sure there's food and alcohol and laughter and presents and even the guards relax a little bit. It's nice, Liza." 

Most Christmases recently had been at Ludwig and Feliciano's house in Munich, and it had always been a sizeable gathering. There would be Roderich, Lilli, Basch, Lovino and Antonio, Elizabeta herself, and sometimes Francis and with him he'd bring Lucille and Michelle, and most years Lars, Laura and Louis would come down from Amsterdam for a few days. And Ludwig and Feliciano's house was large and warm and traditional, there was never a shortage of food and there was always a fire burning, and it felt like Christmas. Elizabeta decided it could never feel like Christmas at Ivan's bleak mansion.

"What do you say? You will stay for Christmas, right? Toris and I are going to make Christmas dinner for it." Elizabeta tried to avoid Kat's expectant stare. "I'll think on it, Kat. But Christmas isn't for what, 11? -- 11 days yet. I might go back to Budapest before that. How long did you expect me to stay for?" Kat sighed. "Maybe I misunderstood. I thought we were.. Liza, I thought we were.. y'know.." 

"You think too much. Kat, I don't know. I'm not saying we're not, but.." Kat's face flushed with dejection, before she quickly realised and turned away, squinting her eyes up at the sunset. "Kat, I haven't been in this house in decades. I've barely seen you over the past couple of years. I have a life now, a life beyond Roderich and a life way beyond Ivan." She shook her head. "I'm not ready to let it all go, not so soon." Kat tried to submerge herself in an alternate reality, just until Elizabeta stopped talking and saying the wrong things, which weren't really the wrong things in actuality, but were the wrong things in that they weren't what Kat wanted to hear at all. Maybe it was stupid, maybe it really was, but in the two days Elizabeta had been there, things had been better. Toris had regained his will to fight. Toris had the blueprint for a plan, a plan for the group's ascension to sovereignty. And Kat had decided she might just be on board with it.

****

Kat stood in the doorframe of the house, her hands cupping a mug of steaming tea. Her hair was drying, and it coiled in honeysuckle yellow curls around her forehead, and she was dressed in three sweaters to try and fight against the precociously bold chills. Natalya, who'd been coming downstairs with a stack of magazines to recycle, paused and sighed. "You'll catch your death if you keep the front door open much longer. No, scratch that, we all will." Kat shivered, and looked at her feet. "He's meant to be home soon, you know that. He's meant to be home soon and who knows what'll happen then?" Natalya rolled her eyes. "Just because he's been gone for longer this time, doesn't mean he'll have changed. He's still your little brother, okay? Happy?" Kat drummed her fingers on the mug. "I know that, silly. But what I don't know is what could have happened while he was away. He's been gone near enough three months, Natalya. That's enough time for everything to have changed." 

Elizabeta smiled weakly at Natalya from her vantage point - leaning against the wall of the hallway. "Kat," she began, her voice loud enough for Kat to hear it clearly. "Kat, when did you say he was due to come back? The 16th? That's not for two days. You're not going to see him suddenly arrive by waiting at the door. Leave it be, and come inside." Kat proved unresponsive for a moment, before nodding reluctantly. "You're right, Liza, you're right. Of course you're right." She padded inside, but her step was slow and she dragged her feet. "Part of me wants him to come home, but part of me doesn't." She murmured. 

"Why don't you want him home? What are you afraid of?" Elizabeta countered, fiddling with a button on her cardigan. Kat shook her head. "I'm afraid he'll have gone and signed himself into some stupid new contract and that he'll have made some laws with our governments that ruin everything and that he'll have been corrupted and indoctrinated and .. and.." She paused, and squinted at Elizabeta, still desperate to try and work her out. "He's such a good boy, Liza. He's the best brother in the whole world. But these are scary times, you see. And sometimes being the best brother in the whole world doesn't make up for everything." Kat decided, condensing her words to avoid a breakdown. "I just want things back. I want to live in my house again, my tiny, god-awful, scruffy excuse for a house. I want to be able to do what I like with each day and, and .. and," She closed her eyes. "I don't want to fear my little brother anymore." 

That was when Feliks revealed himself from inside the under-the-stairs cupboard. "Well, then its a good bloody job you've got us around, isn't it? Because we've got a plan."

There was a long silence. 

"-We've got a plan." Echoed Toris, who stood at Feliks' shoulder, his eyes glittering. Kat fixed her vision on the pair. "And what's that to me? You've had plans before. You've never ever done anything about them." 

Feliks flicked a strand of his barley coloured hair out of his eyes and smirked. "I mean, I'm not the brains behind this, but I'm the best at, like, explaining. So, right, basically, yeah, we're gonna.. we're gonna ambush Ivan. And we're gonna shoot him." He said, turning to smile smugly at Toris, before whispering: "Short and sweet, just like me." Toris then nodded, and shifted his weight from foot to foot. "It's kinda brutal, but we gotta do what we gotta do. Plus, we gotta remember the guy can't die. We're not tryna kill him, we're, we're..." Feliks gesticulated, until Toris chipped in. "We're bargaining for authority. Because we won't get it any other way." He said quietly. Feliks gave Toris a friendly shove. "What he said. So, opinions?" 

Kat's mouth had made the shape of an o, and Elizabeta hadn't moved her eyes from the floor in about a minute. "You're going to shoot my baby brother." She said, balling her hands up into fists. "You are not going to shoot my baby brother, you hear me?" She then said, her voice inflected with a searing rage that no one had ever expected Kat to be able to muster. 

"When you say it like that, it like, kinda sounds bad. We're not trying to hurt him. We're trying to give him a message. Kat, be like.. reasonable. We've tried talking to him, we've tried writing a letter, we've tried, like, getting our governments to take action but they always totally chicken out. This is all you've - we've - got left." 

Kat didn't say anything. You can take that two ways. Kat didn't say anything agreeing with him, but she sure as hell didn't say anything disagreeing with him either.

Feliks nodded, pleased he'd asserted Toris' plan with such 'skill' it seemed to even get Kat to go along with it. He turned on his heels and jogged upstairs - presumably to go and inform Raivis and Eduard of the plan, and Kat turned on her heels to presumably go and tell Natalya of the plan. As Elizabeta in turn tried to leave, Toris suddenly slammed his hands into her shoulders, driving her up against a wall, causing a painting to swing on its hook. "Whatever you do, you don't tell anyone outside of the house what we're planning, alright? Just a mention of this and we could be dead meat. And you don't try and dissuade Kat about this either. I know what you're thinking, you're thinking we're barbaric. But we're not! You just don't understand!" His voice was filled with fury, his eyes a raging inferno. Suddenly he sighed, and blinked, a periwinkle tear snaking its way down his ivory cheek. He lessened his grip on her shoulders. "I so hope you'll understand. I'm sorry." He said, stepping back from her. "I.. I don't know why I did that. It's all the tension, I can't handle it, Liza, I can't. But this plan is go. We're going to do it, okay? Please.. please support us." 

Elizabeta stared at Toris for a long time, before nodding shakily. "I understand, Toris. Things are different now then they were when I got my independence. But I want nothing to do with it. I don't care what you do, but I am no part of it." Toris cocked his head, before nodding. If Elizabeta stayed out of this, it'd be safer for her, and there would be a reduced chance of her intervening and messing things up. "Alright, sure. Listen.. I'm sorry you got caught up in this, even just a little. Things are just tricky here right now. It.. it was stupid of Kat to ask you here, it was." He decided, playing with his wrist. "We'll be out of this mess soon though, I'm sure of it." He paused. "Do you think the plan is.. how can I put it - irrational? I-" Elizabeta cut in. "It's irrational in a time of irrationality. You have to do what you have to do."

****

Outside the mansion, most things were noticed by the masses of surveillance. But surveillance can't climb trees. Humans can, though. This is exactly where a new force comes into the equation, a young male with sandy blond hair in a cowlick - albeit covered mainly in a pair of grey earmuffs. He was clearly tanned, but his nose was a crimson red from the biting cold. Around his neck hung a pair of binoculars, and he was wearing a thick fleece with the American flag emblazoned on the back. Not quite a spy, but not quite a passing pedestrian either.

He was sat on a branch of a towering fir tree, his knees drawn in to his chest, his eyes glued to the binoculars. He couldn't see much at all, but he was in close enough proximity to hear. And what he heard didn't really surprise him, but it didn't really enlighten him. As an American in late 1989, grudges from the Cold War were fresh and they stung. But this was an American with different circumstances.

This was none other than Alfred F Jones, boyfriend (of two months) of Ivan Braginsky. And he was very, very worried.

****

Elizabeta stood, her head resting on Kat's shoulder at the oven, where Kat was stirring a large pot of soup. Through the walls, the buzzing voices of the guards could be heard talking and conspiring, and the kitchen was in a hush. Raivis had already set the table, and sat in his seat with his chin resting on his folded arms. Eduard sat tapping at a bulky laptop, Feliks was sewing felt flowers on a sweater, Natalya was staring out of the window and Toris was arranging the bouquet of flowers in the middle of the table. Natalya suddenly tensed, and Toris paused from positioning a rose exactly behind a silver spray painted twig. "What is it?" He murmured, but she didn't reply, only narrowed her eyes further to focus on the view. "See that. Tell me that doesn't look like a monkey." She decided, jabbing a finger at the glass at the masses of firs to the left of the house. In one of the branches, his form distorted by the billowing snow, was Alfred, his eyes trained on the mansion. Toris shrugged. "Don't usually get monkeys in Russia. Might be a bird." Natalya snorted. "Don't usually get bloody ostriches in Russia either." 

Eduard craned his neck. "It's probably a discarded piece of trash just lodged in the tree. It's not an ostrich." Natalya scoffed. "Says the short sighted one." She added curtly. Kat rolled her eyes as she brought the soup pot over, and started doling it out. "Whatever specimen it is, you should all shut up. The officials are having a meeting." She reinforced, but couldn't help giggling. "Why don't you go out and offer it soup, it's not very high up the tree. If it's trash it won't respond, if it's a monkey, it'll likely steal a bowl out of your hands." She decided, entrusting the job to Natalya. 

She wasn't gone very long, but when she came back, she wouldn't tell anyone what the mysterious 'thing' ended up being.


	4. Training and Interference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natalya keeps a secret, Raivis and Eduard have some pistol-induced bonding time -- I swear that's not a euphemism, and Elizabeta and Kat come to terms with the plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning - mention of guns. 
> 
> I live in England, where we don't use guns - it's certainly not commonplace, even for entertainment, so I had to research loads of stuff about guns. Even just trivia, anything to make it sound more authentic..

Kat had been gone all day, supposedly running errands. But considering it was just ten days before Christmas, it didn't take a genius to figure out what she was really up to. Elizabeta had busied herself with making correspondence with Roderich, whom she hadn't spoken to since she had arrived. Her marriage with Roderich was very much over, but it would be a lie to say they didn't care for each other, because they did. Feliks whiled away the day doing little of anything, just spending it in his own company. But Raivis and Eduard spent the day learning to use a gun with Toris.

Eduard was a lanky guy, tall and slim with a frowny, bespectacled face -- it was safe to say he'd never so much as held a revolver. Raivis was shorter than Eduard was tall, with a mousey, permanently terrified expression beneath masses of tousled blond hair. He was Ivan's underling of underlings, and to him, he'd never been faced with a worse prospect than holding a gun, let alone shooting it.

The snow had stopped for once, but the ground was still ankle high with the stuff. Toris was sitting on the edge of the snowy patio, fiddling idly with a box of bullets. His eyes flickered from Eduard's face to Raivis's, then back again. "I know you don't want to do this. In a sense, I don't want you to either. I feel like I'm claiming an innocence that isn't mine to claim." He declared shakily, before setting aside the bullet box and walking towards the duo. "I've already set this one into the ready position. It's manual, so you've got to set it into safety position yourself once you've fired it. Right, so, you just slide one in there, got that?" Toris demonstrated, clicking the metal bullet into place. "And try not to hit Ivan's fence, please. The last thing I need is him asking to be reimbursed for the damage." Toris then fell quiet as Eduard's hands grasped the rifle, and he lined up the white target board with the end of the gun. "When should I shoot?" He asked in a hushed tone, but Toris shook his head. "Whenever you're ready." Raivis covered his eyes, and moved back from the scene a little. Toris sent him a flicker of a sympathetic smile. Eduard shot with little prowess, and watched as the bullet missed the target board, and instead inserted itself into the trunk of a fir tree behind the fence. Toris gave a little chuckle. "Better than my first time, I assure you." He said softly, before whipping round at the sound of a door opening. At the frame of the garden back-door stood Feliks, his arms crossed and his face plastered with a wily smirk. "What've we got here, my love?" He asked sweetly, tossing his abundance of golden locks.

Toris blinked and looked at his feet. "Self-defence training, I guess you could say. Eduard's just shot for the first time." Feliks nodded, before meeting Raivis's gaze, "You gonna let Shaky McShakes have a go too?" He asked Toris, who suddenly looked guilty. "Not if he doesn't want to. But he said he did, didn't you, Raivis?" 

Raivis hated being put on the spot for an answer. His nervous tic started playing up, and he would keep having to play with his hair or his hands or his sleeve. "If Eduard is doing it, then I want to as well." Eduard blushed a little. "I only hope that he doesn't end of doing something he shouldn't just because I did it too. That might get him hurt." He said, gently placing the rifle down on the outside dining table, before giving Raivis a long, hard hug. "He's invaluable to me." Raivis widened his eyes a little, clearly unused to compliments, even from Eduard. Then they pulled apart, and Raivis nodded at Toris. "I-I would like to shoot n-now, please." He stammered, before following Toris' lead in assembling the rifle. "You'll do great, lil buddy!" Feliks said, padding over and leaning his head on Toris's shoulder as a sign of endearment. 

Raivis perfected his stance, just like Toris had shown him, before pulling his cheek into the slide of the rifle. He narrowed one eye, and lined up the barrel of the gun with the target. He exhaled a little, and shot.

The bullet pierced the target right in the centre, right in the bulls-eye. Raivis had barely set the rifle into safety position before Eduard came running straight at him, and kissed him right on the lips. They didn't pull apart for some time.

****

 

"Nat, what are you thinking? Naaat. Natalya. What's on your mind?" Feliks said in a sing-song voice as he trawled through the channels on the television, his legs crossed, a sleepy Toris resting his head on his chest. Natalya sat on the other side of the L-shaped sofa, engrossed in her own thoughts. 

"Don't leave me hanging, Natalyaaa. What are you thinking? Hey, Natalya? Are you thinking about what we're having for dinner? I am too. Or maybe you're thinking about how much you want me to shut up? Well, sucks to be you, because I'm not planning on shutting up. Wait - are you thinking perverted thoughts, my dear Natalya? Who's the lucky man? Or lucky woman, maybe. Hey, Natalya? Is it Elizabe-" He was cut off by the impact of a cushion collided with his face, launched by none other than - of course - Natalya. 

"I don't have a clue what you're talking about." She hissed, before surveying the TV screen. "A documentary? Feliks is watching a documentary, huh?" She commented snarkily, pulling a blanket closer round her shoulders. Feliks smirked. "You underestimate me, Natalya." 

A scuffling sound at the door was heard, and Raivis curled his head round the door. "Um, I j-just wanted to remind you all that I-Ivan is supposed to come home tomorrow. D-does that m-m-mean we are g-going to .. you know.." Feliks' expression turned grave. "Crap. I suppose it does mean that. We're going to ambush the guy who has kept us as his servants for decades tomorrow." Raivis tried to stifle a horrified look. "W-well, thanks for c-clarifying." He said after a while, before looking at his feet. "Are we g-going to go over the plan again w-w-when Toris wakes up?"

Toris stirred at those words, pulling away from Feliks a little. He looked nervous, before nodding. "Yes, we are. Is Kat home yet?" Raivis nodded. "She's with Elizabeta, in their room." Natalya scowled a little. Toris sighed. "Then we may as well do it now."


	5. Dawning and Dissuasion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this chapter is the real one where drama starts. It's gonna be an explosive climax/pre-climax written to the best of my ability. I promise ;>
> 
> Fun fact; I listened to 'I'm Gonna Live Forever' on a loop while writing this chapter. I dunno why.

12:01 am, 16th of December 1989.

Elizabeta had been asleep until this exact time. She'd gone to bed at 10:40, and she'd slept decidedly soundly during the short period of time between when she actually retired to her bed, and when she woke up.

It doesn't normally seem significant, waking up at a very precise time in the middle of the night. But this was the first minute of the day in which the 'plan' was to be carried out. The plan that was latest successor in a long history of failed plans foiled either by Ivan or trepidation. To her left, lay Kat, breathing softly in such a way that made flyaway locks of hair flutter, and made Elizabeta smile. To her right, lay, propped up against the bed, the gun that Toris had provided, just in case. It was a sorrowfully contrasting display.

Elizabeta slipped off of the bed, and traced the ridges of the gun, her fingers following the grooves and indents. In the corner of her eyes beaded tears, and for the first time in a long, long lifetime, she didn't wipe them away. Maybe Ivan wouldn't come back today. Maybe even if he came back tomorrow instead, it wouldn't make a difference. Maybe he'd just be exposed to the wrath of an extra twenty four hours' fury. 

Nobody could claim a lot about Ivan. He lived his life as tucked away as he could manage, and was often confusing about his emotions. Things had happened in his life that had moulded him into a strange, broken individual with no more cruelty than a child, and the intelligence of an old, old man. He was incredibly tall, making sure he asserted his weird, splintered dominance without even saying anything. He was strong and well built, yet he was the kind of person who would happily let a butterfly land on his finger. He was the product of his own blissful naïvety, and his advisors headstrong malice. And nobody could work out if that was a dangerous product or not.

Elizabeta looked down at her feet, her vision blurring until her feet simply became disfigured sculptures of nothing. None of the nations had immortality, but instead a mortality that seemed to extend forever with the blessing of longevity. Ivan would not be killed by a simple bullet wound. 

What did the bullet signify? Did it even matter? Did Ivan simply just deserve to be shot over and over again until the pain reverberating through his form was as great as the pain he had inflicted unknowingly on Toris, on Feliks, on Eduard and Raivis, on Vladimir and Aurel, even on his own two sisters, and once, on Elizabeta? Elizabeta ran over the plan again in her head. Feliks and Toris were going to effectively lead the mission. Natalya would serve as a decoy, and would be the first person to meet Ivan on arrival. She would say a code word - that fitted into a conversation - and Toris and Feliks would spring out and make like they were going to shoot. Feliks would then threaten Ivan with shooting if Ivan didn't make headway on giving them independence. It was hardly the most complex or intricate of plans, but it was going to change something. In a way, it was only 50/50 as to whether Ivan would actually get shot -- because he might, might decide to let them go - or at least start the process.

But maybe Ivan had too big a superiority complex for that. Elizabeta laid the gun down gently, before padding to the doorway. At the end of the corridor, she could hear an argument raging between Eduard and Feliks. Clearly tensions were running high, and with good reason too. 

As Elizabeta lost herself in trying to forget about the argument, she felt silken hands slide round her shoulders, and smiled a little. "Hey, Kat." She whispered, and felt the touch stiffen. "It's Natalya." Came a gravelly voice, clearly put out, but she didn't remove her arms from where they sat over Elizabeta's form.

Elizabeta yanked her body away. "Wha--What are you doing, Natalya?" She said, pivoting to face her. Natalya stood before her, dressed simply in an oversized t-shirt and shorts. 

"What, so are you and my sister dating now?" Natalya hissed, her lavender eyes spiking with a sharp amethyst. Elizabeta hesitated. If Natalya had asked this to Kat, Kat would have replied with a 'yes', guaranteed. But it hadn't been asked to Kat, and the reality was, Elizabeta wasn't quite sure. She wasn't trying to toy with Kat, she knew that much. But she didn't really know what feelings she felt for the girl with the short daffodil coloured hair. 

"I.. I don't know. I'd never thought about it." Elizabeta murmured - a weak reply, she knew. "What's it to you, anyway?" She then added, a tang of defensiveness creeping into her tone. 

Natalya shrugged. "It's nothing to me. You're nothing to me." She said, her bangs sliding over her eyes, so Elizabeta didn't quite know if this was sarcasm or not. "I don't know, Liza." Natalya had never called Elizabeta that before. "I.. I thought we had a chance but it's only now I realise that it was so obvious. Kat.. Kat is obsessed with you." Natalya admitted, clearly incredulous to what she was saying. She then looked up, meeting Elizabeta's gaze, before she stepped forward, winding her arms around Elizabeta's shoulders yet again, before suddenly advancing, and stealing away Elizabeta's lips into a long kiss. As she pulled away, Natalya smiled. "And that obsession must run in the family, because so am I." Elizabeta suddenly aimed a shove at Natalya, and pushed her away as hard as she could - anything to get her away from herself. "What do you think you're doing? You'd literally just said.." Elizabeta tailed off. "You know what, forget it. Because there is no way that I would ever date you, Natalya Arlovskaya Braginsky." She then retreated hastily into Kat and her's shared room, giving the door a slam to cut Natalya off.

Kat stirred a little, and Elizabeta softened upon seeing her. 

That was when she knew she was ready to enter a romantic relationship with Kat.

****

8am, 16th of December 1989.

Feliks and Toris sat on the bottom step of the large staircase in the middle of the entrance hall. Neither looked at each other, even for a second or for a glimpse, and neither said a word. Natalya sat on the floor, next to the door, ignoring most people but especially Elizabeta. Kat was in her room upstairs, and Raivis and Eduard sat a little higher up the staircase. Raivis was on the brink of tears, and Eduard had his arm draped around the smaller male. 

The house was deathly silent. Even the Soviet officials were gone for once, after all, they only stayed as long as they had work. They had other places to be, mainly Moscow, for mainly scary meetings.

The only sound was the drip of the rain against the hard tile roof, and the occasional drumming of Feliks' fingers on his rifle. No other sound was welcome.

11am, 16th of December 1989. A train station in Rostov-na-Donu, Russia.

A tall man with blond hair in a cowlick stood, solitary, on the platform. He was wearing a red hoodie which said 'Class of 1989' on it, and his hands were stuffed in his ripped jeans pockets. His glasses were misted up with the cold, and his cheeks were a striking red from the bitter chills. He was waiting, had been waiting for about half an hour now. Not a single train had passed during that time. 

But at long last, the faint chugging sound of a train echoed into the man - who was nothing more than a teenager, really - 's ears, and he looked up expectantly. This was it, this was the day. After a week of separation, he was finally seeing his boyfriend again. A week isn't very long in the grand scheme of things, but to Alfred F Jones it felt like a forgivably cliche lifetime. 

The train drew to a halt, and the speakerphones started announcing things in very harsh, very fast spoken Russian. Alfred had been in Russia for five months now - pretty much since he finished high school - and yet he barely spoke a word of the language. The doors opened, and he swivelled his sight, desperate to pick out who he was waiting for. He wasn't hard to pick out usually, being generally a foot taller than everyone else, generally dressing in dark black turtlenecks with a crop of almost white hair, and striking purple eyes. And yet Alfred couldn't seem to see him anywhere.

The crowds of commuters finally seemed to ebb away, and then Alfred caught sight of three men, two in suits, one in a turtleneck. His heart skipped a beat. 

He tried to remain serious as the turtleneck and the two suits approached him, but he ended up breaking into a sunny smile. For once, turtleneck and his two suited bodyguards weren't speaking Russian. They spoke English, and Alfred heard the tail end of the conversation. 

"--I've got nothing to worry about. It's not like they'll have been brewing up a murderous plot for me whilst I was gone. You have to remember they're family to me, some literally so. I'll be fine, but thank you for worrying." 

Alfred watched as the bodyguards leapt nimbly back onto the train, and Ivan broke out in an unexpected (to all except Alfred, though the station was by now, deserted) high pitched laugh. "Hey, Ivan." Alfred whispered, embracing the taller male, breathing in his flowery scent - sunflowers, and holding him with all the closeness he wished he could have given him the past week. "You're back. You're gonna see your sisters, right?" 

Ivan suddenly looked panicked. "Sure I am. I haven't seen them in nearly three months." Ivan blinked. "Don't you miss your brother Matthew?" 

Alfred's gaze flickered. "I miss him all the time, honestly. But hey, if I was in Russia ten years ago, or any country, I wouldn't be able to email him. And I can do that. And phone him. But I coulda phoned him ten years ago, if I was in Russia. Or any country." Alfred said, vaguely aware he was blabbering. But he knew Ivan didn't care. Ivan usually let Alfred do all the talking for the two of them. 

"Are you sure you're not worried, though? What if everything's gone wrong while you were gone?" Alfred probed, trying to quicken his step so their paces matched. Ivan was actually quite a slow creature, but his legs were so long, each step could be measured in yards. 

"I'm not worried, Alfred." Ivan replied, but more to reassure Alfred than himself.

Alfred tried to trust Ivan's judgement. "Tell me about your sisters, Ivan. You never did show me the picture of them like you said you would. I showed you pictures of my brother and I all the time." Ivan all of a sudden stopped in his tracks.

"Alfred, maybe it's not such a good idea you come home with me. Not today, anyway." 

Alfred looked like a disappointed puppy. 

"Oh, okay. Sure. Stay safe. I love you."


	6. Now and Sabotage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A disheartened Alfred experiences feelings of doubt for Ivan's safety, and at the mansion, the plan slips into reality. And who knows what happens after that? I do, but that's because I'm the writer. I'm funny, I swear.

Alfred waited for Ivan to say 'I love you,' back, but he waited in vain. He waited until he saw Ivan leave the train station, before he pulled his hoodie tighter around himself, and shivered, breathing on his hands in a forlorn effort to try and warm up. A corpse of a leaf rustled in the wind around his ankles, and he turned to face the station map. His apartment was a train journey away, a train journey he barely had the money for. But that was okay, he had seen Ivan, even if only for a minute. He'd said he'd meet Ivan off the train, and he'd kept true to his word. Alfred liked fulfilling promises, even ones as small as the latter, and ones as big as keeping their very relationship secret. He'd always tried to be a good person, especially for his younger brother Matthew, and now especially for Ivan. He'd figured that Ivan could do with a good person in his life right now.

Traipsing off of the platform and past the newspaper vendors to get to the ticket booth, he realeased a sigh, a leaden and loaded sigh. Life was confusing right now. He didn't know how much longer he was allowed to stay in Russia - which had originally been proposed to him for work purposes, after he chose not to go to university. He didn't know even if he was allowed to stay in Russia, if he'd be able to afford it. If the work he needed to do whilst he was out here was done, then there was no reason to prolong his trip. There'd be something new for him to do in his hometown of Manhattan. 

Once the queue had cleared and he'd forked over the cash for the ticket, he returned to his spot waiting for the train, humming an out-of-tune melody to himself. He didn't know when he'd see Ivan next, so he made a mental note to call him once he got back home. In the meantime, he had to hope Ivan was okay. Alfred had to admit, he didn't have a clue about Ivan's sisters and what they were like. Which in his mind, portrayed them as dangerous. He just had to trust that Ivan was right, that Ivan would be fine. I mean, there are more dangerous things to do then visiting your family, it has to be said.

But the uneasiness remained. That was when Alfred knew there was no way he was taking a train home just yet. He had to see for himself that all was well.

****

1pm, 16th of December 1989. 

Elizabeta lay on her side on their shared bed, facing Kat. She clasped her hand, tight enough to leave marks from her nails. But Kat didn't seem to mind. This wasn't a day for minding things like that. Kat blinked, and flashed a brave smile. "This is the right thing, Elizabeta. Independence is the right thing. We're all strong enough now, Toris and Eduard and Raivis and Natalya and I. It means Feliks can at last go home. It means Ivan can have peace, and that maybe the whole world will leave him alone again. And I think he'd like that more than he'd care to admit." She paused. "It's a hard thing to lose all you've worked for, Liza, I know. But Ivan can achieve much better things than a Union of imbalance. Him losing us will mean he's free to look after himself more, free to do new things. And it means I can go home! It means I can see the rolling hills of my farm again, and sleep on my old bed with the patchwork quilt and cook breakfast in the tiny little kitchen and I'll be able to get my water from my well and I'll see the little cats that always come by for a saucer of milk.. Liza, this is what I want! And if we have to harm my baby brother for it, then so be it." 

Elizabeta didn't say anything.

"And of course you're part of the dream too, Liza. I know you won't want to leave your home in Hungary, so we'll have to make do with visits. I can visit your home too, right? And maybe.. maybe one day I'll decide I want to leave my home again, but it'll be my decision, not my advisors', an-and.. maybe I could come and live with you? Not now, of course. But one day." Again, Elizabeta held her peace.

Perhaps it was wrong to hide the truth from Kat. But she couldn't bring herself to tell Kat that maybe her house in Ukraine wasn't standing anymore, and instead an ashy graveyard. That maybe Kat would have to build her country almost completely anew, and that no one, no one would even try to help her do it. But maybe it was kinder, in the short-run at least, to let Kat believe in a greater reality. It generally helped most things to believe in a greater reality.

Elizabeta smiled a little, and Kat's eyes flickered with earnest. "You think we can do that?" She asked, her voice sounding as excitable as that of a small child's. Elizabeta dithered. "I think we can try, Kat. If that would make you happy." Kat's eyes lit up, and she giggled. "I'm so glad, Liza. If things go right today, maybe this can be reality in a year." It was this inextinguishable optimism that nearly set Elizabeta sobbing.

"I'm going to get a glass of water. I won't be more than a minute." Elizabeta murmured, leaping lightly off of the bed, and closing the bedroom door in her wake.

She'd left the room intending to get a glass of water, she knew that much. But the glass of water had never been got.

She jogged down the stairs, before noticing that the front door at the bottom of the staircase was open just a crack, and that Toris and Feliks were crouched behind it. Natalya, she presumed, was outside. This meant.. this meant.. that Ivan was here.

Her heart started pounding more than it ever had, and her vision turned fuzzy and her knees felt weak and she couldn't feel her arms and it was like an onslaught of such an explosive anxiety she had never experienced before, not in a whole millennium. 

They were going to try and shoot Ivan for pain he had not created. They were going to try and shoot Ivan for an evil that was not his, but his government's. 

She clutched onto the banister of the staircase, her eyes misting with tears. But tears didn't solve anything, and they most certainly did not change the course of a gunshot. It was so funny how she had agreed with this plan until now, the day of which the gunshot was impending, borderline inevitable, but now that the day was here, she felt sick to her stomach about the whole affair. 

Ivan had not been good to this group of nations, that was black and white, that was fact. But Ivan was a friendly creature, and if had the power to comprehend the situation, then she was sure things would have been different. Either way, the nations - her friends, weren't giving him a chance to explain himself.

Feliks would say that they'd given him a chance too many. But if they'd given such an abundance, then did another one hurt? 

She heard the crunch of footsteps as Ivan trekked up the driveway, and then she heard a faux-happy squeal from Natalya. Natalya greeted him in Russian, though Elizabeta had learned to decipher the language. Her ears were pricked, she knew the code word. The code word was independence.

Natalya said she would work it into a conversation easily - by saying something along the lines of 'We've missed you, though it feels like we've experienced a kind of temporary independence.' This was a risky thing to say, Elizabeta knew. And it was on that cue that Feliks and Toris would leap out from their inspired hiding place behind the door, grab hold of him and pin the gun to his heart. That was when they would demand their independence. 

So, if Elizabeta was to make a move, she'd have to time it perfectly right, to the highest caliber of accuracy achievable. She calculated that that would probably be when Feliks and Toris leapt out. She'd have to dart through the door and throw herself in front of Ivan, in front of the gun. She'd say something on the spur of the moment, because the best part of saying something on the spur of the moment was that you didn't have to plan it in advance.

But it was too easy to go wrong if Elizabeta sneaked past the door seconds after Feliks and Toris did. It left too big a margin for error. A margin that Elizabeta wanted to eradicate.

She turned on her heels and ploughed back up the stairs, not turning back even to see if Feliks and Toris had heard her ruckus caused in her hasty departure from where she had stood midway on the stairs. Elizabeta didn't turn back once as she charged at the window at the end of the upstairs corridor. By some kind of action novel luck, the window was half open, making it easy for Elizabeta to throw herself through it. As she accelerated through the air, she tucked her head and appendages in - the snow might not provide an effective enough cushion for a first-floor height fall. 

Landing couldn't happen fast enough. Scrabbling to her feet, she pressed her back into the wall. She would creep to the side of the front porch, and from there observe the scene. A few moments after Natalya gave the code word, she would spring. She would lunge with every ounce of courage she had, complete with every drop of fuel for the cause of giving Ivan another chance. Her breathing became heavier, but she had to focus on the scene unravelling just yards to the side of her rather than concentrate on steadying her breaths. "I am Elizabeta Hedévary, and what I am doing is the right thing." She whispered to herself, her heart hammering inside her ribcage. She'd faced guns before, several times. The First World War, the Second, battles before that and battles after. She knew from bitter experience that the only thing she had to fear was her sheer bravery giving way to weakness, not the bullet from the barrel of the gun. Wounds could be tended to, but humiliation could never be lived down.

Natalya smiled bashfully at Ivan. "Ah, we've missed you. However, while you were gone.. it feels like we experienced a type of temporary independen--"

The door was flung open, and Toris charged. Elizabeta didn't have to think twice. She sprinted, her legs putting her to no avail, her courage keeping her soaring. She was only vaguely aware of the feeling of fleece brush past her, as she bowled herself into Ivan. "No! Toris, Feliks stop!" She cried, yanking the shorter Feliks' hands off of Ivan's neck, and casting him aside with every bit of strength she had. Once she had Feliks pinned down, she stamped a foot on his chest to stop him from getting up, and with her left hand lunged for Toris' neck, with her right hand, she covered the barrel of Toris' gun. "You don't know what you're doing, Toris Laurinaitis. I stand by what I said. This is an act of irrationality in a time of irrationality." She applied force on Toris' neck, causing him to stagger backwards. "That doesn't mean irrationality is the answer. There are better ways to go about this, I fucking swear! I'll show you! I swear to you I'll get you independence, but-"

A voice from behind her cut in, an American accent. "But don't touch him."


	7. Never and Forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [No Chapter Summary] .. but only because I wanted to keep what this chapter actually entails a secret. 
> 
> This chapter is going to be a tad more hefty than it's predecessors, which haven't been that long. But it's also the last one of this fanfiction, which I've enjoyed writing immensely!

Toris blinked, and slowly, but surely, he lowered his gun. Elizabeta released her hand from round his neck and let Feliks get up. Behind her, Ivan stood in a state of shock and the owner of the American accent clung to Ivan's arm.

"I'm sorry. That all came out in such a rush." Elizabeta whispered, her voice hoarse and husky. Toris nodded, before widening his eyes as Ivan clamped a hand on Elizabeta's shoulder. "T-That.. was a brave thing to do. Thank you very much, Elizabeta Hedévary." 

Elizabeta didn't turn to face him, but instead stared at the ground, her long chestnut hair falling over her face. Ivan tried not to make eye contact with Toris, or with Natalya, who stood about two yards behind him. "And you, Alfred. I told you not to come home with me." He paused. "But I don't really mind." 

Alfred put on a small smile, more for the effect then rather out of genuine happiness. This wasn't really a moment for genuine happiness. Ivan cleared his threat. "Well, I'm home. It's nice to see you again, Toris and Feliks." He chirruped, as if the action of barely a minute ago had never happened. 

Toris and Feliks stepped aside to let Ivan pass through, and go inside. There wasn't really much else they could have done, because it seemed they hadn't asserted anything at all. It seemed like Ivan had barely heard a word they'd said. 

"Who are you, then?" Feliks raised his voice, nodding towards Alfred, who looked uncomfortable to be singled out. "A.. a friend of Ivan's. That's all." Alfred drawled quietly. "I'd best be on my way." He then muttered quickly, narrowly avoiding eye contact with Elizabeta.

Nobody said a word as they watched Alfred make his way to the front gate, turn right onto the pavement, and disappear into the distance. There wasn't really anything to say at all, because Elizabeta had intervened when she said she wouldn't, and the plan had failed. No one was really angry though, not yet. 

"That's that, then. We failed." Feliks snapped, kicking up a flurry of snow. "We said we wouldn't and we hoped we wouldn't but we did! Are you happy, Elizabeta? Are you happy? Because we thought you were on our side! Not that we even have a side anymore! There's only Ivan's side, because Ivan controls everything, and we're never gonna be free! You know what, Toris, I hope you resign from trying." He broke off, a crystal clear tear sliding down his cheek. "Because maybe accepting our fate is less painful." 

Toris shook his head. "It's not 'our' fate, Feliks. It's mine, it's Natalya's, it's Eduard's, it's Kat's and it's Raivis', but it's not yours. What you need to do is go home. Go home to your liberation." 

Natalya let out a choking sound as she tried to stifle her tears, before gesturing to the front door. "We should go inside, Elizabeta. Leave these two out here to sort things out." Natalya decided in a low whisper, holding the door open for Elizabeta and then closing it mode the two were inside. Then, Natalya slowly sunk to the floor, before clasping her face in her hands, and not crying -but sobbing, sobbing disgusting, ugly tears and snorting and sobbing. Comforting her wasn't an option, when it was mainly Elizabeta's fault that the plan had been ruined. 

She was a saboteur in Natalya's eyes. And that stung.

****

The first thing Elizabeta did after that was wash her face, splash her cheeks with an icy cold reminder that in her friends' views, she was a monster. She knew Toris and Feliks effectively hated her guts now - same went for Natalya. Eduard she wasn't sure - she didn't even know if he knew what had happened yet. Raivis, when he found out, wouldn't care. He was too kind to hate anyone, and Elizabeta could tell in his heart of hearts that he didn't really want independence yet. 

The hardest person to try and gauge their reaction was Kat. Kat had wanted independence more than anyone else, it seemed. But Elizabeta was sure Kat's adoration for her was stronger than this missed opportunity. She was certain that this could be overlooked. 

It was hardly like Ivan had denied liberation, anyway. All he'd done was been saved from a tricky question and potential gunfire. He had never outright said that no, the Baltic States and Natalya and Kat were his, tied to the mansion and a prisoner of his regime. It would only be when he declined their request that Elizabeta would know her friends' hatred was surefire.

She sighed, and took a long look at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Her dusky willow eyes wavered in the picture, and she shook her head to blur the reflection. "I don't care what they think of me. Their plan wasn't right. Tomorrow, I will head back to Budapest. And I shan't look back once." She hissed to herself in the mirror, balling her hands up into gritty fists of determination. She nodded, dried her face in a towel, and exited the room. 

Ascending the staircase as quickly and as inconspicuously - to anyone who was around - as possible, she padded into her and Kat's bedroom, which was now empty. This could only mean that Natalya was debriefing Kat on what had just occurred. Elizabeta didn't care, she didn't want to care. Perhaps their relationship was over as quickly as it had begun. 

She set about packing her suitcase, folding each sweater violently as a way of letting off the steam that she had accumulated inside her mind in such a short space of time. Perhaps if today hadn't happened, she would have stayed here until Christmas. Christmas here would have been strange, no doubt about it, but she would have spent with people who even now she still liked. Just because she had tried to boycott their plan, it didn't mean she hated them.

It would take a long time for her to grow to hate them, if in fact, it was possible.

No, instead she would return home and spend most of her days alone in her apartment, though every so often she'd drift into the company of Roderich, who although she claimed to despise, she didn't really. And Basch and Lilli were nice enough too, if a bit reclusive. Ludwig was a gentle fellow of few words who she liked immensely, and of course no one could hate Feliciano.

Then she heard footsteps, the telltale tread of light-footed Kat, who was hovering outside the room.

"You really did that?" Kat asked from behind the door, her voice quivering.

Elizabeta hesitated, but there was no point in hiding the truth. "Yes, I really did that. It was the right thing to do, Ka-- Yekaterina."

Kat stiffened from being referred to so formally. "No, it wasn't. You're deluded, Liza. You knew we wanted this." 

"No, you're deluded. You really thought that there wasn't a more civilised solution to all this?" Elizabeta replied, her voice going high pitched with her passion.

"Of course there was a more civil solution! Only problem being, we've tried them all! You don't get it, Elizabeta Hedévary. You are so self-entitled. You don't know what it's like being us. We're scared even to leave the house. This government, they can convict us of anything. It's like a hell, but it was less of one with you here. I thought you were an omen, Elizabeta, a good one. I thought you were going to help. When Toris picked up on your reluctance, he told you simply to leave us to do our own thing. Our independence doesn't concern you. You've hung around those Germans too much, they've made you think that you rule us. Well, this in 1989, nearly 1990, not 1914." Kat screeched, such a caterwaul never expected to come from such a quiet, kindly individual. But Kat was fed up, she'd let herself believe that this was their chance, this was her chance to go home.

And yet the person she'd let herself love most had ruined it all.

Elizabeta closed her eyes for a moment, before reopening them. "I see your point. But there were better ways. Sometimes you have to accept defeat. Because the truth is, Ivan isn't going to give you lot up. No, what you need to do is get people on your side. I suggest the US. Maybe not. I don't know, Kat. But this isn't the way to do it, trust me on that." Elizabeta said, buckling her suitcase shut. There was no point waiting to leave until tomorrow morning, it'd be better to go now, it would dodge awkwardness and she'd be home sooner. If there wasn't a flight tonight, she could easily stay in a hotel.

"Listen, good luck. But remember, use your voice over any weapon." Elizabeta whispered to Kat, before turning her back on her, descending the stairs, opening the front door, and taking her leave as simply as that. The first time she'd left this house had been a lot stranger, a lot more meaningful than how she was doing it now. The difference was, this time she had freedom, she was a blooming country again. And that meant the most to her in the world.

It had been nice having Kat so close, even for such a short time. But it felt sort of like she'd left her world a little bit. Her world was half in Vienna with people who felt like family, and half in the cosiest apartment ever. And if she ever came to the decision to trade that, then she'd be truly mad.

The snow crunched underfoot, and a shiver spiralled down her spine. It was chillingly cold, and the tips of ears were tinged with an angry red. Missing the house as she left it was fleeting — it only took a moment to realise how solemn and horrible everything there was. It made her revel in her freedom a little more, and that was never a bad thing. She'd got so used to it, she'd forgotten how horrible it had been in captivity.

The airport was busy, but somehow it didn't take long to get everything scanned in. There was a flight to Budapest at 8pm, in five hours. There was a payphone in one of the waiting rooms, but Elizabeta decided against using it. For now, all she wanted to do was sleep, and although the hard plastic of the chairs didn't make for the comfiest bed she'd ever used, she slept well.

The plane trip slipped away into little of any memorable substance, and she got off of the plane soon enough. But what was most surprising, was that when she had entered the airport, the Budapest airport, Roderich was waiting for her. He had seemed uncomfortable about the manner, and simply stated in his incredibly articulate, fancy Austrian accented English that Kat had called to let him know Elizabeta was returning. "So I thought I'd meet you off the plane, save you a train journey home - my car's outside." He shrugged, looking hideously pretentious and standing out from all the weary passengers and holiday makers in his pinstripe dark violet suit. He'd never been one for fashion. Elegant? Yes. Classy? Certainly. But fashionable? No.

The car journey home wasn't quiet - Elizabeta never found it hard to talk to Roderich and vice versa. The termination of their marriage had been a unanimous decision between the two, and they found it surprisingly easy to keep up a healthy, platonic relationship. Roderich had started by asking about what had gone on over there, but he'd sensed it put Elizabeta on edge. Roderich could be a jumped-up snobby little shit, but he meant well. Sometimes.

When they reached Elizabeta's apartment block, Roderich looked at her expectantly. "It's cramp my style, but I'm tired -- you don't suppose I could slee-"

"Sleep on my sofa, yes. And I'll make you breakfast tomorrow." Elizabeta smiled, before yawning a little, and Elizabeta's yawns always sounded like kitten yawns. Roderich looked pleased with himself. "Aren't I lucky to be friends with someone as considerate as you?" He commented snarkily, but it bounced off Elizabeta and she humoured him with a sarcastic laugh. "So, what've you been up to then?" She asked, unloading her suitcase from his car and leading him into the foyer of the apartment block. 

"The usual. Coffees by the Wien, strolls through the city, appreciating the music, perusing bookshops, inviting Basch over for lunch, and leaving the afternoon free for my own music. I haven't had many meetings yet. Seems like Austria's become blissfully irrelevant this past fifty years." He said softly, his shoes tapping out a staccato on the marble floor. As they reached the glass elevator shaft, he suddenly furrowed his brow. "What're you going to do for Christmas this year?" 

Elizabeta sighed emphatically. "Same as usual. Spend the day at Ludwig's -- will I be seeing you there?" Roderich nodded. "Great, another spoiled Christmas." She laughed, and he rolled his eyes. "It wouldn't be the same without our vaguely flirtatious antics, you know that." These had become a tradition of many recent Christmases, in fact, its only downfall was that it always left Feliciano and Lilli convinced that they were dating again, which couldn't be further from the truth.

As they exited the elevator, Elizabeta fell silent. She knew she didn't really have any feelings the Austrian, and was pretty sure he didn't harbour any for her.

But her mind kept wandering back to a certain Ukrainian that perhaps she did have feelings for.

****

8:30am, December 26th, 1991. 

There was a soft knock at Elizabeta's door. When there was no answer, it grew louder.

"What is it? Lilli, it's not even Christmas Day today. No more presents. Santa hasn't been. He won't come back for 364 days." Elizabeta called out croakily from where she hid underneath the covers. 

"No, Liza! It's not that! But there's another present for you." Lilli's said in a sing-song voice. "I'll bust down the door if you don't get up," Lilli added, applying pressure to the doorknob to add extra incentive for Elizabeta to peel herself from her bed. 

"If you did, I'd have busted you, Lilli Vogel." Elizabeta hissed as she emerged from her guest bedroom at Ludwig and Feliciano's house, wearing a soft white dressing robe and her hair hanging in two loose wavy pigtails. "So what is it, then?" She asked, as Lilli tugged her downstairs and into the hallway. 

"I have to blindfold you. I'm gonna put my hands over your eyes, alright?" Lilli commentated, standing on her tiptoes so she could cover Elizabeta's eyes. Once Elizabeta was rendered unseeing, Lilli winked at Feliciano, who opened the living room door.

Once Elizabeta was inside, Lilli removed her hands. The TV was on, and it was covering the news.

And the headline said, very simply

'Soviet Union Dissolved.'

Before Elizabeta could even take this in, she felt a tap on her shoulder. When she turned round, there was a certain daffodil haired Ukrainian. And then they were kissing, and Kat was apologising profusely.

And it looked like things would skyrocket up from there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> // Wien - River in Vienna, Austria.
> 
> It's done.. Normally I'd say 'at last', but this fanfiction was so quick to complete? I started it on the seventeenth of March, and finished it today, the twenty-first. Weird. 
> 
> But seriously, I hope you all enjoyed it? I probably ended it horribly cheesily and the plotline was likely incredibly weak and I'll almost definitely look back on this in six months and cringe. But hey, it's done, and for now, I'm happy with it. Can't ask for more than that.
> 
> Thank you all so much for leaving Kudos, commenting, and simply just reading, whether you stuck with me for the first sentence or read the whole thing (though logically, you're not going to be reading this if you didn't read the whole thing. It's still a nice sentient thanking you for it, though.)
> 
> I hope I get to write lots more fanfictions, so stay tuned? I guess? 
> 
> Anyway, this is Kester, the writer, signing off.


End file.
